


still breathing

by variantsofblue



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Not Dr3 compliant, Plot, self deprecation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28622838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/variantsofblue/pseuds/variantsofblue
Summary: Komaeda wakes up on a beach with ten Ultimates, a rabbit mascot, and the strange feeling that this has all happened before.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito, Mioda Ibuki/Tsumiki Mikan
Comments: 13
Kudos: 83





	1. Prologue

The _tap-tap-tapping_ of fingers against computer keys is the only sound in the otherwise silent room. It would be constant if not for the pauses, coming at just irregular enough intervals to guarantee the existence of a human behind them. Even so, the sound is steady enough to form a sort of rhythm. _Tap, tap-tap, tap_. _Tap, tap, tap-tap-tap_. _Tap-tap, tap_.

Komaeda syncs his breathing to it, attempting to reach the level of unconsciousness that all the others have been forced into, but this only serves to make him restless. He sighs and sits up, sliding aside the cover to the pod he was placed in a few minutes ago as he does. He's careful not to make any sudden movements. It wouldn't do to clue his captors in to the fact that their sedation hadn't worked on him. Not yet, anyway. Not when he still hasn’t decided whether this is good or bad luck.

Casting his eyes around the room, which is surprisingly well lit, Komaeda takes in his surroundings. There are fifteen other half-open pods, identical to his own, positioned around a cluster of multiple monitors connected with more wires than Komaeda has ever seen before in one place. This cluster seems to be the origin of the tapping noise, as he can see three figures crowded around it. The survivors of Hope’s Peak Academy’s 78th class, or half of them; Naegi typing on a large keyboard while Togami and Kirigiri stare intently at the monitors.

One more look around the room and Komaeda’s gaze suddenly meets with bright red eyes. The man from the boat, he immediately recognizes, sitting three pods away, also awake, long hair tangled around him. Komaeda has no idea how he didn't notice him before, but he pays that no mind. Raising one hand - his own, not the one he took from _her_ \- in greeting, he directs a wide smile at the man, who only responds with a blank stare before turning his attention away.

Right. Komaeda lowers his hand but doesn't let his smile dim. _Boring_. That was what the man had said on the trip over here, voice as monotonous as a student reciting a textbook passage. Komaeda’s life, his talent, his entire existence. All boring.

The words hadn’t stung, exactly - they’re true, after all - but, coming from the man, they had, in a way, felt wrong.

No, that’s not it. Komaeda blinks as he fishes around in his mind for a more accurate description. Incomplete? Missing something? Those feel closer to the truth but still leave him unsatisfied. There’s just something about it all that makes him uneasy. Like he’s scratching, scratching, scratching at a scab that will neither break nor heal, a perpetual bother at the edge of his awareness.

A loud _clatter_ , followed by a few muttered curses, draws Komaeda’s attention out of his thoughts and towards the center of the room, where Togami is waving a handful of extension cords in Kirigiri and Naegi’s general direction, frantically whispering to the both of them. Komaeda, although unable to hear all of what he is saying, registers the phrases, ‘know this is a bad idea’ and, ‘can’t rehabilitate terrorists’ more than once.

Somewhere at the periphery of his vision, Komaeda spots a shadow flitting to and fro between computers and power banks. It moves fast and disappears when he tries to directly look at it, leaving him unsure whether it really exists at all.

After a minute or two spent listening to Togami's quiet tirade, which has replaced the tapping as the sole noise in the room, Kirigiri interrupts him with a single, inaudible, statement, reaching out to grab the extension cords from his hands. Togami clicks his tongue but allows them to be taken, crossing his arms over his chest as Kirigiri plugs the cords into a long power strip. Naegi's head swivels back and forth between the two of them a couple of times before turning back to the keyboard. _Tap_. _Tap_. _Tap_.

Komaeda lets his gaze drift away once more. Without any conscious thought on his part, it lands, again, on the mysterious man. He is standing now, one arm braced on the edge of his pod while the other hangs down by his side, almost but not quite touching the fabric of his light blue hospital gown. This time when his eyes meet Komaeda’s he tilts his head slightly to the right, a silent question, or maybe a challenge.

An image flashes to the forefront of Komaeda’s mind, overlaying itself atop the sight in front of him. The same man, red eyes now a pale, captivating green and hair both lighter and shorter, choppy strands sticking out in a way that is somewhat reminiscent of small spikes. He’s wearing a suit - the same one the man had originally worn - and is absentmindedly fiddling with one sleeve of the blazer, creasing the black fabric underneath his fingers. His expression is a mixture of nervousness and annoyance and something else Komaeda can’t decipher, and when he speaks, his words are-

Are-

Are-

The image shatters, breaking into a million tiny pieces before disappearing altogether. It leaves behind only a sense of searing pain, tiny spears impaling every part of his brain it’d touched.

Rubbing two fingers against his temples in an attempt to fend off the impending headache, Komaeda squeezes his eyes shut.

The next time he opens them, the man is gone.

_Tap_.

_Tap_.

_Tap_.

  
  
  


//Overwrite complete

System.restart;

//WARNING: Multiple errors detected

//WARNING: Action may lead to system failure and/or cause danger to participants

//Confirm action to proceed

System.restart;

//Restart confirmed

.

.

.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actual plot will start next chapter (and I'll be adding a bunch of tags then) but I hope you all like this so far!


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: self deprecation, innuendos, use of ableist language

Komaeda wakes up on a beach.

It’s a quick waking, a sudden start to reality from the hold of already-forgotten dreams. He can’t pinpoint what exactly causes it. Maybe it’s the sea air, salty smelling and slightly misty, covering him like a cool blanket. Or the bright sunlight, turning the space behind his closed eyelids a burnt red. Or the strange sensation of sand beneath him, thousands of miniscule grains shifting with every small movement.

Or maybe it’s the voices, loud and confusing and overlapping, assaulting his ears with waves of impossible to ignore sound, which do the trick.

“-let me kick him! That would wake the loser up!”

“-suggestion, fiend. As expected from a mere mortal such as yourself.”

“At least I’m not a-”

“-wouldn't work, I think.”  
  


“-say we let him sleep! A good night’s rest is essential to a healthy body!"

“Th-that may b-be true, b-but it’s not-”

“Silence, commoners. Can’t you see he’s awoken?”

Almost as if he was waiting for the cue, Komaeda groans and blinks open hazy eyes, one hand instinctively rising to shield them from the light. He uses the other to push himself up to a sitting position, sand grains clinging to his palm, to the spaces between his fingers. The voices, meanwhile, quiet and then dissipate, fading away almost completely. Almost.

"Heyyyy, you're finally up! Ibuki thought you'd sleep for-ev-er."

A person suddenly appears in front of him, blocking out the sun. They're half-kneeling, face too close for comfort and Komaeda immediately registers pink eyes, dyed hair, the signature striped horns of the Ultimate Musician, Mioda Ibuki. She looks exactly like how all those forum threads had described her.

Oh, that reminds him. He's supposed to be attending Hope's Peak Academy right now, isn't he? Last he remembers, he was standing outside the school, admiring its larger than life presence, the hope he could feel brewing just inside. He had considered turning away so as not to sully such a wonderful place with his presence, but had forced himself to step forward anyway, to push open the grand, imposing doors and- and-

He'd woken up here, no memory of ever having fallen asleep.

Ah. What bad luck.

"...would make a totally rad song, though. Ibuki could call it-" Mioda pauses, apparently noticing Komaeda's - truly disgraceful - inattentiveness. "Nagito-chan, you're totally spacing out right now!" She frowns, leaning back and away from Komaeda.

"Aha, sorry." Komaeda lets the hand over his eyes fall, joining the other in resting on the warm sand. "But, if I may ask, how do you know my name?" The school lottery winners are never discussed on any of the hundreds of threads concerning Hope's Peak attendees; even if they were, Komaeda doubts any of the real Ultimates are the type to check such forums.

"Huh?" Mioda's expression turns to one of complete confusion. “Well.” She chews at her bottom lip, closing her eyes and bringing her hands up to tap a silent rhythm against the sides of her head. She remains like this for long enough that Komaeda considers attempting to change the subject.

He’s just started turning over potential transitions in his mind, debating which would sound the least terrible in his grating voice, when, “Oh!” Mioda’s hand shoots straight into the air. “Ding! Ibuki’s got it! She must have met Nagito-chan at one of her concerts. That’s how she knows him.”

“I see.” Komaeda doubts that’s it. He can’t remember ever once going to a concert before, not even the handful of times he’d received tickets to see whatever idol group or band was popular at the time - passed down by classmates who 'suddenly didn't have the time', mailed as prizes from contests he'd never signed up for, found wedged in his textbook after a chance mix up of bags. But he’s wasted enough of Mioda’s time already; he wouldn’t dare to push his luck any further - lest it start pushing back. “If you say that, then it must be right.”

“Yep.” Mioda jumps to her feet. She puts her hands on her hips, turning slightly to one side, a wide grin on her face. “Another case solved. And without even needing the prota-”

“Are you two just gonna keep yapping? We’ve got stuff to do, you know,” a shrill voice calls out. Komaeda turns his head in the direction of the interruption, finding the Ultimate Traditional Dancer, Saionji Hiyoko, to be the source. Her eyes narrow immediately upon meeting Komaeda's.

"Don't be rude," the girl next to her - the Ultimate Photographer, Koizumi Mahiru - gently chastises. "But." She turns her gaze on Komaeda; it's as sharp as he'd expect a photographer's to be, but has a hint of something else - something that could be either warmth or irritation. "She's not wrong. We should talk about things now that we're all up."

“Of course.” Komaeda nods. “I’m sorry for keeping all of you waiting.” He wipes his palms on his jacket, clearing them of sand - or at least attempting to - before taking hold of Mioda’s now-outstretched hand, using it for support as he staggers to his feet. As soon as he has a more or less stable footing, he lets go, hoping his touch wasn’t _too_ unbearable for Mioda.

Now that he’s standing, Komaeda is able to observe all of the others on this beach. Scanning his eyes over the group, he takes note of each person, mentally matching faces to talents and names. He’s able to identify everyone.

_Except for the boy currently lying on the ground next to the [], limbs splayed and head lolling to the side. He’d fainted almost immediately after their arrival, falling backwards into the sand with an unceremonious and alarming_ thump _. Komaeda doesn’t blame him. This whole situation, [] and all, is very weird._

_“What should we do with him?” [] sounds more worried than annoyed._

_Apart from [] meekly offering to check for a concussion, no one answers._

_“I can stay here until he wakes up.” Komaeda says, when it becomes clear that none of the others will._

_“Are you sure?”_

_"Yes." Komaeda smiles in a show of ease he doesn’t quite feel. “He should have company when he wakes. Even mine would be better than nothing.” Maybe. Hopefully._

_He waits until the others have left, off to explore the [] and gather [], to move closer to the boy._

_Tentatively crouching down beside him, Komaeda reaches out a hand, brushing away a few grains of sand from where they’ve nestled in the boy’s [] hair. It’s [] than it looks, and before Komaeda has even made a conscious decision to, his fingers are carding through it, straightening out tangles and rearranging strands until the boy’s hairstyle approaches something similar to its original state._

_Under his hand, the boy shifts, lips moving to mouth something. Komaeda withdraws, jerking back so quickly he loses his balance and falls back towards the ground. From his new position he carefully watches the boy, sighing with a mix of relief and disappointment when no further movements come._

_Why is he so intrigued in this boy anyway? That, Komaeda couldn’t say. It’s not just that he’s [] - although he definitely is, in a way that makes Komaeda’s cheeks grow warm and heart beat faster - or that his [] is still [] to Komaeda._

_Maybe it has something to do with the boy’s presence - or, rather, his lack of one. Even with him unconsciousness, it’s easy to see: he has the air of someone who spends most of their time on the sidelines, someone who doesn’t tend to get involved, doesn’t tend to leave much of an impact. Komaeda can relate._

_But, ah, that’s presumptuous, isn’t it. After all, the boy’s still an Ultimate, unlike Komaeda; there’s no way he could ever dream of comparing the two of them._

_In front of him, the boy shifts once more. Komaeda draws closer, watching as his [] eyes slowly flutter open. When it seems like the boy has regained most of his consciousness, Komaeda speaks._

_“Hey, can you hear me?”_

A sudden _snap_ breaks Komaeda out of his… daydream? hallucination? He jolts, eyes immediately focusing in on the hand positioned only a few centimeters from his nose. Automatically taking a step back, he lifts his gaze slightly. Togami Byakuya’s annoyed expression comes into view.

At first glance, Komaeda can already tell that Togami’s imposing physical presence is well matched to the aura of refinement that surrounds him. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he's here. After all, it had been predicted - no, _known_ \- since the day he'd first stepped into the public eye as the Togami Corporation's heir that he would be scouted for Hope's Peak. But… wasn't he in the year below?

...

Oh well, if anyone could get around the 'must be a current high school student' requirement, it would be the Ultimate Affluent Progeny.

_The words 'Ultimate []' jump out at him from the page, printed in tiny letters next to a picture of []._

_That, Komaeda supposes, explains a few things._

_He continues to flip through the book, eyes widening as he reaches a section titled 'The [] of []'._

"Are you listening?" Togami speaks slowly, drawing out each word, as if talking to a child.

"Yes?" Komaeda blinks, trying to dislodge the strange, confusing images clinging like burrs to his mind. He doesn't entirely succeed.

Togami narrows his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, but doesn’t push the issue. Moving to address everyone, he says only a curt, "Then let us begin". Komaeda isn't sure what he means by 'begin', but he knows it would be impertinent to ask, especially when he had claimed to be listening only a few moments prior. 

“Oh, I guess I’m first.” The Ultimate Gamer, Nanami Chiaki, speaks, turning all eyes to her. She yawns, gives a short introduction of her name and talent, yawns again, and says, “What I know about everything, hm.” 

Pausing, Nanami’s tired expression transforms to one more thoughtful. "I was about to go to school, I think, when I was knocked out. It wasn't with a Heaven-slaying Dragon Fist or Final Smash or anything, though." Shrugging, she pulls her hood over her head, one of the attached cat ears slightly folding over. "After that, I woke up here. Everyone else was-" a long yawn "-asleep. It was around five minutes before the next person woke up, probably.”

“That would be me,” Togami picks up. "My recollection is much the same as Nanami's. I also attempted to enter Hope's Peak but instead found myself on this beach. I have no memory of the events in between.” The introduction he gives afterwards feels almost tacked on, like an afterthought. It’s an odd contradiction for the Ultimate Affluent Progeny, but it’s not Komaeda’s place to question it.

Next to speak is the Ultimate Cook. “But you can call me the-” Hanamura freezes, stares blankly at a palm tree.

The Ultimate Team Manager, Nidai Nekomaru, standing next to Hanamura, drops a hand onto his shoulder. Hanamura startles, recoiling so violently that his white hat nearly falls off his head.

“Right. As I was saying.” Hanamura takes a breath, reaches up to readjust his hat. His voice is slightly tinged with something Komaeda thinks may be an accent, though it fades too soon for him to tell. “When I woke up here, I was scared stiff. In fact,” he fully recollects himself, a predatory grin appearing on his face, " _Every_ part of me was stiff. Especially my loi-”

“I was next.” Koizumi interrupts, leveling a steady glare at Hanamura before continuing.

After Koizumi follows the Ultimate Swordswoman, Pekoyama Peko, with a brief, to the point, statement. Saionji goes after her, and Mioda after Saionji. The Ultimate Nurse, Tsumiki Mikan, apologizes all through her turn while Nidai yells through his; the Ultimate Breeder, Tanaka Gundham, is no calmer than either of them, spending the majority of _his_ turn boasting about the accomplishments of himself and his hamsters. 

Although everyone describes a similar experience, no one is able to add any new information or clarify their circumstances in the least. The weight of their combined uncertainty hangs heavy in the air.

"Is that it?" Togami asks, after Komaeda has finished his own - short; he didn't want to force the Ultimates to listen to the most worthless member of their group for too long - introduction.

"It does seem like there should be more people." Koizumi frowns. "From what I've heard, eleven is pretty small for a Hope's Peak Academy class."

"But it's the perfect size for a school trip!" a high-pitched, unfamiliar voice chimes in. 

Casting around for the source, Komaeda’s eyes land on something that definitely wasn't there a minute before: a medium-sized stuffed rabbit, standing on two legs in the middle of the loose circle formed by the group during their introductions. It has an odd design, with one half of it being white while the other is pink. Fastened between its mismatched ears is a yellowish-pink bow, somewhat matching with the pink skirt it's also wearing. In one hand it clutches a gaudy looking pink toy wand with a golden heart attached to the top.

“Oh good, you’re all paying attention. You sure know how to make your teacher proud!” the rabbit - maybe not so stuffed after all - speaks.

_“Stop talking to us like we’re children.” [] grumbles from his seat in the front row. [] pauses in the middle of writing the [] on the blackboard._

_She whirls around to face [], pointing the piece of chalk in her hand at him. “I don’t speak to you like children. I speak to you like the youths you are.”_

_“You’re only a few years older than us.” [] frowns._

_“But I’m definitely [].”_

_“Don't f-”_

_Komaeda tunes out the exchange, looking to the side. [] is absent today, allowing him a clear view out the wide window. Through it, he can see the [] of [], [] and [], []._

_It’s mostly empty, with the lone exception of a boy wearing a [] blazer, running across the [] like his life depends on it._

_He slows upon nearing Komaeda's classroom, stopping completely when he is directly parallel to it - or, rather, parallel to the [], which is on the []._

_And Komaeda knows it's impossible, for a multitude of reasons, but in the moment when the boy draws closer to the building, tilts his head up towards the window that Komaeda is looking out of, he could swear their eyes meet._

_"Komaeda-kun," [] calls, drawing Komaeda's attention back to the front of the room. "Your answer?"_

_"Aha." Komaeda pushes all thoughts of the boy in the [] to the back of his mind. "I'm sorry, but could you please repeat the question?"_

"What kind of foul creature..?!" Tanaka's exclamation pulls Komaeda back to reality. Judging by the still confused expressions on the others' faces, he hadn't missed too much during his- his- whatever it was.

**_A hallucination_ ** , his thoughts whisper as they slither through the confines of his brain like venomous snakes, poison lethal only to him, **_A symptom of your deteriorating mind. Nothing more_ **.

Nothing more.

Even if a part of him felt inclined to object to this judgement, it wouldn't be able to find the words.

"I'm not 'foul' at all!" The rabbit's features, despite being so obviously inhuman, easily mimic offense. "Such a rude thing to say to your teacher."

"What is this 'teacher' business you keep prattling on about?" Togami crosses his arms over his chest. "There is no way a stuffed rabbit like you could teach anyone."

"Uwah! Teenagers are so mean to mascots nowadays." The rabbit's ears droop for a second before springing back up. "I'm Magical Miracle Girl ★ Monomi. AKA Monomi. And I may be a squeezably soft stuffed animal, but on this heart-throbbing school trip, I'm also your teacher chaperone."

"Monomi..?" If Komaeda weren’t standing directly across from Nanami, he might have missed the way her lips turn down, eyebrows furrowing in something that seems to be more than simple confusion.

“What do you mean b-by ‘s-school trip’?” Tsumiki’s question seems to shock even herself. Small tremors run through her as she clasps her hands together, all the color draining from her face.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. A relaxing, peaceful break from the stresses of everyday life on a beautiful tropical island paradise. Doesn’t that sound lovely? Don’t you just want to let the sea and sand sweep away all of your worries?” Monomi slowly spins as she speaks, making eye contact with each individual in the circle at least once. There’s something about the gaze of her black and red button eyes that makes Komaeda feel as though a fistful of snow has been stuffed down the back of his shirt; he suppresses a shiver.

“Oh! I just remembered!” Monomi waves her wand above her head, bringing it down with a dramatic slashing motion. She stops it a millisecond before it touches the sand.

Komaeda suddenly becomes aware of a weight in his jacket pocket. He reaches into it, drawing out a thin, black tablet. Tapping at the screen, the word ‘e-Handbook’ pops up, next to a slightly pixelated picture of Monomi. A menu on the side shows icons titled 'Map', 'Presents', 'Report Card', 'Regulations', 'Pet', and 'System'. Komaeda clicks through them. 

The map renders instantly, but the 'Report Card' section takes significantly longer. When it does finally load, there are multiple black spots covering certain sections of the screen. When Komaeda taps on one, the tablet glitches, flashing a short error message before returning him to the home page. In contrast, both 'Presents' and 'Pet' are fairly innocuous, and the only purpose of 'System' seems to be to adjust the volume settings on the e-Handbook.

Swiping through 'Regulations', which he had left for last, Komaeda carefully reads each rule. There are only four of them, but he still finds himself confused.

“What are Hope Fragments?” Komaeda asks, lifting his eyes from the e-Handbook to see everyone holding a tablet similar to his. Monomi looks at him, tilting her head to the side.

“Huh? I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Komaeda-kun.”

“The second rule says ‘work together to obtain Hope Fragments’.” He flips his e-Handbook around so that the screen is facing Monomi. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Oh, that pesky thing?” Monomi moves one hand behind her back, the other coming up to touch her face. "That's nothing. Just some boring leftover that doesn't mean anything now."

"How will you know if we violate these rules?" Togami questions, pushing his glasses up. "Do you have surveillance cameras set up around this island? If so, why not put any on the beach?"

"Your teacher doesn't need nasty things like cameras!" Monomi turns to face Togami. "I already know everything that happens on this island."

"Don't tell me." An expression of horror appears on Tanaka's face. "You, too, are in possession of all the All-Seeing Eye..!"

"Hey, hey." Nanami chimes in. "There's nothing in here about how we're supposed to get home."

"'Get home'? You shouldn't be thinking about things like that. Just focus all your energy on enjoying this vacation and put all thoughts of leaving out of your-" Monomi abruptly cuts off, head turning to look at the sword poised above it.

"Enough of this." Pekoyama's voice is dangerously even, red eyes showing no emotion. "Tell us how we may return home." She moves as if to strike, stopping just before her sword actually makes contact with Monomi. "Now."

"Careful!" Nidai warns. "It says here that 'extreme violence is prohibited'. Breaking that rule may put you in danger."

"Uwah! I'd never hurt one of my precious students! I'm a rabbit, not a bear! But." Monomi holds her wand out in front of her like a shield, like a warning. "Your classmate is right when he says violence is against the rules, Pekoyama-san. Please listen to him."

Pekoyama frowns and wavers for more than a few seconds but eventually retreats, tucking her sword back into its black bag. Komaeda watches the way she inhales, exhales, something like resignation flashing across her face.

He can’t help but wonder just what it is she wants so badly to get back to.

A tense silence falls over the group, no sounds to be heard but the calls of seagulls high above and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the sandy shore. Monomi is the one to break it, using her wand to form a complicated pattern in the air as she speaks.

“I’ll leave you all to explore Jabberwock Island now. Call for your teacher if you need anything and I'll come straight away. Love love!" And with a final exaggerated twirl of her wand, she disappears.

“Did she say Jabberwock Island?” Togami’s question comes only moments after Monomi’s exit.

“Yeah, I think. Have you heard of it?” Nanami tilts her head to a side, hands gripping at the straps of her backpack.

“A bit. I know that it is an archipelago of six islands in the Pacific Ocean. It’s a rather popular tourist destination. However, I thought- No.” Togami interrupts himself. “We should thoroughly explore before coming to any conclusions.” 

“You just want to do what that rabbit said?” Saionji sneers. “You really are a weirdo.”

“Believe me, I do not trust her either, but I see no other way to gain the answers we require about our situation. As your leader, I declare that this is what we must do.”

“Wait, hold on.” Koizumi puts her hands on her hips, glaring at Togami. “Who said you’re our leader?”

“Since there is no one more suited to the position than I, I have taken the burden upon myself. As.” He pauses momentarily, an unreadable emotion flashing in his eyes, before continuing. “As Togami Byakuya, the Ultimate Affluent Progeny, I swear on my life that I will do all that is within my power to guide everybody through this strange situation. I will lead each and every one of you!”

“Eeee!” Mioda is the first to respond. “Byakuya-chan is so cool.” She leans to one side, hands fluttering as she addresses the person next to her. “Don’t you think so, Mikan-chan?”

"Oh, um." Tsumiki startles. "Uh. Yes. He s-seems nice."

"Ooh!" Mioda straightens, turning to fully face Tsumiki. She takes the girl's hands in her own. "Mikan-chan is also cool!"

"Really?" Tsumiki's face turns an alarming shade of red.

“Yep. And pretty too~”

“-!!”

“I suppose you _have_ been pretty reliable.” Koizumi concedes, looking away from Togami.

“Well, if Mahiru says so then I guess Mr. Ham Hands isn’t too bad.” Saionji says, quickly adding. “He’s still a weirdo, though.”

“Ham Hands?” Komaeda sees the edges of Togami’s lips curl up.

“I think his hands are the perfect size.” Hanamura winks, making a lewd gesture. “Especially for-”

“Well said, Togami!” Nidai booms. “I admire your spirit.”

“I have rarely seen humans display a resolve such as yours.” Tanaka cackles, four hamster heads peek out the top of his scarf. “I look forward to seeing what becomes of it.” 

“You’ll make a good leader, probably.” Nanami yawns the last word, eyes falling closed. She sways slightly where she stands.

Pekoyama sounds distant as she adds, “Yes. You show qualities well-suited to one.”

“What a hopeful development.” Komaeda smiles; it feels almost real. “Under your leadership, I’m sure the Ultimates will be able to overcome any despair they may face.” He feels eyes on him as he finishes speaking. Following the sensation, Komaeda finds Togami staring at him with an indecipherable expression.

Ah. Did he say something wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I thank you all for your approval, even if it was expected.” Togami looks away; Komaeda breathes in, out. “Now, let us not waste any more time. Using the map in this-” he holds up his e-Handbook “-we should be able to adequately explore Jabberwock Island. I believe the best way to do this would be to split into pairs. Each pair will investigate one of the five islands surrounding the central island. We will reconvene on the central island after, say, three hours have passed to discuss the results of our respective investigations. Is anyone confused about this plan of action?”

When no one is, Togami nods and says, “Then, everyone, choose your partner and decide with them on an island to explore.”

Koizumi and Saionji immediately partner up, as do Mioda and Tsumiki, the first pair claiming the second island while the latter claims the third.

Komaeda is scanning his eyes over the remaining members of the group, trying to figure out which of them - if any - might be able to endure being in the presence of scum like him for three more hours, when, "Komaeda." Togami's tone is sharp, that indecipherable expression back on his face. "We'll be investigating the fifth island." Komaeda's only response is to nod.

Nidai and Nanami are the next pair to form, Nanami nodding along to Nidai's lecture about healthy sleep schedules in a way that makes it clear she isn't listening to a single word of it. They claim the first island.

This leaves only Pekoyama, Hanamura, and Tanaka. Hanamura immediately announces he is partnering with Tanaka.

"Sorry, Pekoyama." He does not sound the slightest bit apologetic. "You're not too bad looking yourself, but I've heard the crazy ones are the best in b-"

"Finish that sentence, fiend, and I will not hesitate to have my Dark Devas rend you limb from limb."

Hanamura gulps. "Understood."

The two of them end up with the fourth island, leaving Pekoyama as the only one without either partner or island.

"I could investigate on my own," she starts, still sounding very far away, "Perhaps the central-"

"No way!" Mioda cuts in. "Peko-chan shouldn't be alone. She can join our group! Right, Mikan-chan?"

"Um. Yes. We'd b-be glad to have you explore with us."

Pekoyama closes her eyes for a long moment. When she opens them again, she seems a little more present. "Very well then."

With everything decided, the pairs start leaving the beach to go investigate their respective islands. Eventually only Komaeda and Togami are left there.

There's a lot Komaeda could say. He settles on, "You really are amazing, Togami-kun."

Togami looks up from his e-Handbook, one finger hovering over the zoomed in map of the fifth island open on the screen. "Is that so?"

"Of course. The hope you inspire as a leader will be truly wonderful. I can already picture it…." Komaeda realizes he's shaking; he grabs at his shoulder to steady himself. "Ah, but wouldn't it be a shame if that hope were to ensue from your death?"

Togami sucks in a breath. Komaeda blinks, realizes what he just said.

"Aha, I'm sorry. I don't know why I brought that up." Stupid Komaeda, strange Komaeda, disgusting Komaeda. He tightens his grip until he can feel the pressure of his nails even through the fabric of his jacket and shirt, hopes they’ll leave marks on his skin. "It's an odd thing to say, right? But I suppose that's fitting for someone like me. Ahahaha-"

"Enough." Togami's face is expressionless as he tucks his e-Handbook under his arm, turning to exit the beach. "Come. Let's not dawdle any longer."

Komaeda trails after him, chastising himself over and over in his head as they walk. No more words are exchanged between the two of them until they reach the fifth island.

  
  
  


_Would you like to save your progress?_

**_Yes_ **

_No_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: island exploration!
> 
> Notes:  
> -the "aura of refinement" description of Togami is taken directly from the game. some other lines may also be similar to/the same as lines from the game  
> -i added the mioda/tsumiki tag and may add other ship tags in the future, but any ships except komahina will stay mostly background/implied  
> -i checked over this multiple times but i still may have missed some spelling/grammar errors. please tell me if you catch any!  
> -thanks for reading!!


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: self-deprecation, suicidal ideation, references to violence/canonical character death, depiction of a panic attack

"Oh!" Komaeda can't help the gasp that escapes him upon stepping off the bridge. "This is… surprising."

The sight in front of him is like something out of a science fiction movie. Large, mechanical structures pop out in the foreground, reaching up, up, up into a sky obscured by a thick layer of smog. Around them wind long, twisted metal beams, propping up machine guns that Komaeda suspects are more than props. The only sound to be heard in the area is the steady rumbling of machinery, a sharp contrast to the natural ambience one would expect of an island resort.

“Indeed.” Togami pushes his glasses up, distorted light glinting off the lenses. He strides forward without another word, footsteps strangely muffled on the sleek, black path.

Komaeda follows, pushing the hand not holding his e-Handbook into one of the pockets of his jacket. His pinky catches on a loose thread, grabbing and looping it around and around and around until his fingertip starts to go numb. He breathes in, out. His finger pulls, pulls, pulls at the thread. In, out. The sound of seams splitting echoes in his head like gunfire, like a hymn. In, out.

Togami draws to a halt; Komaeda does as well.

They’re at the entrance to a narrow street branching off from the main path. Food stalls line it on both sides, chopsticks and half-empty bowls of ramen strewn across the counters. Small puffs of steam rise up every so often from the backs of the stalls, wafting over smells of rich spices. There is not a single customer or vendor in sight.

And it should feel unsettling, should give off the impression of a bustling street unnaturally cleared out, of life suddenly interrupted, but-

But.

Komaeda walks over to one of the stalls, watches out of the corner of his eye as Togami does the same. He steps behind the counter, focusing his attention on one of the pots whistling over a small fire, steam escaping out the top in loose coils. Carefully lifting the lid, Komaeda looks inside. He blinks; the pot is absolutely empty, no trace of broth or water boiling in it. A cursory check of the other pots shows the same thing to be true of them as well. Then how…?

Shaking his head, Komaeda turns to look at the bowls lying on the counter. The noodles inside have gone visibly cold, clumping together in the congealed soup. With one hand, Komaeda picks up a chopstick and pokes at a few.

They’re hard - strangely so - almost as if they’d been frozen rather than simply left to cool for too long. The broth is in a similar state: completely solid, where it should still be at least somewhat liquidy. Komaeda frowns and sets down the chopstick.

“We’ve spent long enough here.” A flash of motion draws Komaeda’s eyes to where Togami is standing three stalls away, rubbing a hand across his mouth with a sour expression on his face. “We should move on.”

Komaeda nods and steps out from behind the counter, making to move away from the stall. A glint of something at the periphery of his vision makes him pause. Turning his head, he leans towards it, able to make out a coin nestled in the folds of a napkin. He picks it up, turning it over and over in his hand.

The coin is bright gold, and shiny enough to reflect even the weak light on this island. Both sides are adorned with the image of a cartoon bear head, grin menacing in a way Komaeda can’t place. It doesn’t look like any currency he recognizes but somehow still strikes him as familiar. In fact, it-

_It-_

**_Isn't important_ **. 

The thought is sudden, a bright flash that instantly dissolves all of the other ideas brewing in his mind. Komaeda supposes it must be true.

Leaving the stall - for real this time - Komaeda makes his way to where Togami is impatiently waiting, arms crossed and face twisted in a scowl. He has a brief urge to flip the coin in his hand before slipping it into his pocket but refrains; after all, no matter which side it landed on, the only outcome would be the golden head of a bear mascot, smiling up at him with engraved eyes full of unaccountable malice.

.

The next place they come across is a two-story building made of layers of overlapping metal sheets twisting and spiraling in an odd looking design - made even odder by the fact that the inside resembles a typical business’ lobby.

A few suede couches are placed near the middle of the lobby, cushions lacking any of the signature wears or rips that would identify them as ever having been used. Behind the couches is a wide reception desk, on which a brown account book and green potted plant reside. Between them is a thin, folded pamphlet.

Komaeda picks the pamphlet up, unfolding it. He scans over each laminated section, taking note of the information laid out in neat typed characters. The building they're in is the headquarters for a company called Sea King Industries. It's a research facility dedicated solely to manufacturing machine parts. The company itself is fairly small with a workforce of only two hundred employees and has been facing financial trouble as of late. Komaeda doubts if any of these details are relevant to their current situation.

After reading over the pamphlet himself, Togami appears to agree. “I do not think the organization described here would have the resources necessary to engineer this mystery.”

“But you do think there’s an organization behind it?” Komaeda bites back his instinctive self-admonishment at the wording of his question in favor of hearing Togami’s answer.

“Certainly.” He looks deep in thought, chin propped up on one hand and eyes fixed on the wood floor. “A powerful organization at that, to have carried all this out. What it is, though, I couldn’t say.”

“I’m sure that you’ll figure it out in no time, Togami-kun.” Komaeda finds himself saying, fingers tapping an unsteady rhythm against the side of his e-Handbook. “The Ultimate Affluent Progeny surely knows all about powerful organizations.”

Togami's only response is a curt, "That may be," as he moves to stand in front of the elevator doors set into a wall of the lobby, presumably connecting the first floor to the second. He presses the up button once.

The elevator makes a sound between a rumble and a groan as the doors slide open. Togami enters, Komaeda joining him just before the doors start to close.

Neither of them speak as they travel up to the second floor. This by no means lends itself to silence, however, what with the way the elevator screeches and squeals as it jostles upwards, shaky movements nearly nausea inducing. Komaeda leans against one of the walls to steady himself, metal hard and cool against his back. In his hand, his e-Handbook lets out a soft _beep_. He looks down at it, swiping away the notification about his ‘pet’ that’s popped up in the center of the screen. His finger moves to the edge, hovering over the ‘Report Card’ tab. He feels almost nervous to tap it, as if he’s scared of seeing something’s different from the last time he checked, as if he’s scared of seeing nothing’s different.

An abrupt stillness makes Komaeda look up; they’ve arrived at their destination.

The elevator doors open onto what seems to be a viewing platform. Komaeda steps out onto it, walking to the edge and leaning against the metal railing which wraps around the perimeter of the platform. For a second, he pictures himself climbing over it, teetering unsteadily on the edge, arms waving half circles at his sides; he pictures himself losing his balance, gravity taking over and pulling him down, down, down. He imagines the feeling of free-falling, the pain of impact, the blissful nothingness that would follow. He thinks of his body lying on the factory floor, still and lifeless, and feels anticipation, excitement, longing, freedom.

But only for a second.

Looking down from the platform, Komaeda doesn’t spot anything especially noteworthy. There are multiple machines fixed in various places around the room, surrounding a long, looping conveyor belt, but all are powered off, presses and levers suspended half-way as if abruptly stopped in the middle of their tasks.

“I doubt there will be any use in examining these machines individually.” Togami’s voice comes from somewhere behind Komaeda. “Even if they were on, none seem to differ from the stated purpose of manufacturing machine parts.”

Komaeda nods, turning to scan his eyes over the platform itself. It’s hard to see well, cast in shadows unlike the work area, and it takes him more than a few glances to notice the silhouette of a laptop lying near the edge. He moves closer, making to reach for it, but pauses upon taking in its current state.

To call it destroyed would be putting it mildly. The laptop has several large holes in the middle of the screen, as if someone took a hammer to it. Repeatedly. The keyboard is no better, half the keys missing and the other half barely, if even, connected. Komaeda hesitantly reaches out, running one finger over the caved in mousepad; it’s no surprise when the laptop doesn’t respond at all.

“Have you found something?” Komaeda hears Togami’s footsteps drawing closer. He moves aside, allowing him a view of the computer.

“Ah, I’m not sure if this is at all useful.” Komaeda runs his finger over the mousepad again, as if the laptop might turn on this time. It, predictably, doesn’t. He wonders just what information was contained there that inspired someone to take such drastic action. He wonders just how valuable it was.

“Perhaps not, but it _is_ intriguing.” Togami leans in, pushing up his glasses. “Maybe if we had a mechanic-” he pauses; Komaeda feels a sudden spike of pain behind his eyes "-But as things are, the only rational option is to leave it here for the time being." He does not sound very satisfied with his own assessment.

"Right." Despite verbally agreeing to Togami's statement, Komaeda finds himself lingering in front of the laptop. There's just something about it that feels… off, somehow - something that seems completely obvious and yet entirely obscured from his awareness; a group portrait with half the people cut out, a locked room murder with all the clues pointing to an impossibility. He closes his eyes, breathes in, out. In, out. In. Out.

"Komaeda…."

"Aha, I'm sorry, Togami-kun." Komaeda opens his eyes, turns away from the computer, smiles so wide his face hurts. "I suppose I got distracted. As expected of trash like me, ahaha." He avoids eye contact as he walks towards the elevator, clicks the down button on the wall next to it; the grating sound of the doors opening isn't quite enough to cover Togami's tongue click.

And though the elevator ride down is by no means smooth, Komaeda can't help but think that the reason he feels so off-balance is far, far removed from any physical unsteadiness.

.

It should be strange, or confusing, maybe, to find a military base on a tropical island - surprising at the least. Especially with what Monomi had stressed about this 'school trip' being peaceful, relaxing, etc. But at this point, it feels almost… expected, as if strange, confusing, surprising things have already become the new norm - or, perhaps, always have been. Komaeda wonders if this is a form of hope; he fears it may be the opposite.

An arch above the entrance to the military base has the words 'Jabberwock Army' spelled out on it in bright red, English letters. The arch itself is large enough to be seen from several meters away and is how Komaeda and Togami had first become aware of the military base's presence. Beyond it, Komaeda can see the main part of the base. It doesn’t look too impressive, consisting of only a large, flat area with various vehicles parked upon it, but Togami advises caution nonetheless.

“With my luck, I’d probably end up stepping on a landmine,” Komaeda muses as he steps into the base, lips quirking up slightly at his own joke. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Togami pause in the middle of a step.

“Tell me about that.”

Komaeda turns to face Togami. “Hm?”

"You introduced yourself as the Ultimate Lucky Student, correct?" Togami proceeds without waiting for Komaeda's confirmation. "What, precisely, does that entail?"

Shock bubbles up in Komaeda’s chest, sudden and overwhelming, threatening to overflow out of his mouth in hysterical laughter. He swallows it down; breathes in, breathes out.

“To put it simply-” Two paths lay in front of Komaeda. He can talk about the cycle, about the plane crash, the inheritance, the diagnosis, hope and despair, good luck and bad luck; he can share his pain and his desire for understanding, the parts of him that are just a little too jagged around the edges, and hope that Togami will accept them - will accept _him_ , even after seeing Komaeda in all his awful wretchedness. Or he can backtrack, can, not quite _lie_ \- he’d never dream of lying to an Ultimate, of course - but tell a half-truth; avoid baring his soul and continue on the way he always has: alone, unloved, hollow, a facsimile of a human being.

Coward that he is, it’s no surprise when Komaeda chooses the easier option “-I was chosen by a lottery run by Hope’s Peak Academy to attend the school. Because of that, I was given my title of ‘Ultimate Lucky Student’.” He sighs, shoulders rising and falling in an approximation of a shrug. “I’m afraid there’s nothing more interesting to it than that. I don’t possess any wonderful talent like the rest of you.”

Togami lifts one eyebrow. “And what does that matter?”

“Hm?” Komaeda finds himself caught off guard. “I’m sorry, but I don’t-”

“Talent is not necessarily something to be admired,” Togami interrupts, “It can be as much a curse as a gift. Especially if it is all one has.” His demeanor darkens as a sequence of emotions passes rapidly over his face, each seemingly more negative than the last. Komaeda blinks.

“Togami-kun?”

Within a second, Togami’s expression settles back to a neutral detachedness. “We should thoroughly investigate here,” is all he says before turning to look at a large truck, bed filled with pile upon pile of various guns - although there doesn’t appear to be any ammunition present to render them useful.

Komaeda hums and moves to examine a vehicle as well, attention landing on the dull green tank next to him. Gathered next to one of the wheels is a pile of large, rectangular shaped objects, fuses attached to the tops of each. _Fireworks_ , his mind supplies, the thought so immediate he can’t help but frown at it. Shaking his head, he looks over the tank itself, finding nothing of interest either inside or outside - beyond the general fact of the tank’s existence, that is.

Making to move on, Komaeda sweeps his eyes over the base, freezing when they catch on a stylized helicopter, parked innocuously to one side.

And it's the farthest thing from a commercial plane, the farthest thing from _that_ plane - the design is rather over the top and it doesn't look like it could fit more than two people at most - but alarm sirens ring out in Komaeda's mind nonetheless, red lights overlaying the rapid-fire snapshots crossing his mind like a film reel.

_Danger_. A man stands up, yelling about money and a bomb. _Danger_. The pilot makes an announcement over the intercom. _Danger_. Dad slowly rises to his feet, moves towards the man; Mom follows after, yells at him not to do anything stupid. _Danger_. The man pulls out a gun, aims it at Mom; Dad steps in front of her, says something Komaeda doesn't understand. _Danger_. There's a strange whistling sound, quiet but growing louder with every second; no one else seems to notice it. _Danger_. The plane is shaking, shivering, falling apart - or maybe that's just Komaeda. _Danger_. The whistling sound becomes too loud to ignore. _Danger_. Something crashes through the top of the plane. The passengers yell, the pilot yells louder, a flight attendant sobs. _Danger_. Mom and Dad and the man are laying on the ground. None of them are moving. _Danger_. Komaeda tries to reach for his parents; he can't move his arm, can't look away from the red puddle spreading over the floor of the plane, can't open his mouth to _scream - Danger. Danger. Dangerdangerdanger-_

Komaeda breathes in, out. In, out. In. Out. He somehow manages to tear his eyes off the helicopter, gaze turning to Togami instead. In. Out.

"Aha, Togami-kun." Komaeda waits for him to process the address, attention diverting from the sniper rifle in his hands. "I'm not feeling too well here. Would it be alright if I went ahead to the next location?"

Togami considers the request for all of two seconds before nodding. “Very well,” he says, holding up the rifle so the scope is aligned with his eye.

With a muttered, “thank you”, Komaeda exits the base, footsteps and breaths measured. He waits until he is entirely clear of it to start running.

His shoes pound against the path, the sound barely audible above Komaeda’s ragged breathing. His lungs burn, unused to exertion as he is, and his muscles are already cramping, a stitch forming in his side, but he doesn’t stop - he can’t stop. If he stops, he will- will-

Komaeda is acutely aware of a dampness on his face, his eyes, his cheeks; he tells himself it’s just sweat.

It’s only when a large complex comes into view that he slows back to a walk.

The complex contains two buildings. One - a factory, probably - is tall and wide, letting out plumes of smoke every few seconds through an attached chimney. It almost but not quite overshadows the other building, which, though smaller and more plain, has a distinctly more foreboding air to it. Komaeda breathes in, breathes out.

Surrounding the complex is a thin, chain link fence, maybe three or four centimeters taller than Komaeda. He considers jumping it but opts not to, body still complaining from his impromptu run. Instead, he follows along the fence, walking until he finds a gap large enough to slip through. He comes across one after only a few steps. Lucky him.

After entering the complex, Komaeda makes his way to the factory first. The doors open automatically as he approaches; he doesn’t waste any time in entering.

The inside of the factory isn’t very remarkable. In fact, Komaeda spies only two points of interest in the main room: a conveyor belt in the center, similar in appearance to the one at Sea King Industries - and similarly powered off - and a closed door at the corner. He walks towards said door, pushing it open before he can come up with a reason not to.

The door opens into a small room, which Komaeda immediately notices is… empty. There’s not a single object or piece of furniture in sight, only the four white walls - pristine and untainted by any other color, as if they were painted recently - and brown wood floor. For a second, Komaeda thinks he smells something like smoke. He dismisses it as his imagination; after all, there are no fireplaces anywhere to be seen in this room - or vents, for that matter.

Is this area an unused storage room? That would be the logical conclusion, but something about it strikes Komaeda as wrong, worthy of refutation. He mulls over this, thoughts going around in circles only to reach a stalemate at each point. He eventually decides to shelve the idea, exiting both the room and the factory with only the vaguest sense of unease.

As he draws closer to the smaller building, that unease grows, increases and evolves until it overtakes all his other instincts, stilling his steps and increasing his heart rate to the point where he can hear the unsettling cadence _thumping_ in his ears. _Thump thump-thump thump_. _Thump thump-thump-thump-thump_. _Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump_. 

Komaeda breathes in, out, steels his nerves. He forces his feet to lurch forwards until he’s in front of the building’s door, staring at the dull metal. In, out. He reaches out, lays his hand on the knob, and-

_-twists it open, stepping inside without a second thought. He immediately gets down to business, placing the [] and [], lining up the [] just so and looping the []. He doesn’t pause once while he works; he knows that if he did, it would only give him room to doubt, room to reverse his plan, to make the selfish choice, to prove how weak he truly is._

**_Stop._ **

_The set-up is over with quickly, done by the third loop of the [_ ** _Stop_** _]. Now, Komaeda thinks as he [_ ** _Stop_** _], lips curling up in what might have been a grin if there was any amusement in it_ , _comes the fun part._

_He picks up the [_ **_StopIt_ ** _] and [_ **_StopItStopItStopIt_ ** _], glad the [_ **_WhyWon’tYouStop_ ** _] is there to suppress his screams._

_And it hurts [_ **_ItHurtsSoWhyWon’tYouStop_ ** _] but he keeps going, slamming his [_ **_WhyAreYouDoingThis_ ** _] down onto the [_ **_PleaseJustStop_ ** _]._

_With that, all that’s left to do is wait._

**_StopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopIt._ **

_The door slams open. Komaeda almost doesn't hear it over the blaring music._

**_StopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopIt._ **

_He feels warmth lick at his fingers, smells smoke permeating the air._

**_StopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopItStopIt._ **

_It won’t be long now, Komaeda thinks, feeling the spear cord slip slightly in his hand. He tightens his grip. Waits._

**_ItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurts._ **

_There’s the sound of hurried footsteps, of voices, of_ his _voice, of objects being thrown. Komaeda waits and waits and waits some more until his vision goes blurry and his body feels funny and he can no longer keep holding onto the cord. The last thing he thinks, before his thoughts cease altogether, is how much it hurts._

_ItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurtsItHurts._

_It-_

**_System.restart;_ **

_//Restart failed_

Komaeda jolts back to reality suddenly, unexpectedly.

He breathes in, out. In, out. In out. In out in out. In out in in inininin-

He can’t breathe, can’t think. There's a hole in his chest instead of a heart and gashes in his thighs and a choir in his head and poison in his lungs and it’s-

It’s-

**_NotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotReal_ ** _NotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotRealNotReal-_

Not. Real.

Right?

Komaeda reaches for his mouth. There’s no duct tape covering it but he scratches at it anyway, tries to scream just to know he _can_ but the majority of the sound gets stuck in his throat and all that comes out is a choked half-laugh, half-sob. He tries again, again, again, breathes in. Breathes in. Breathes in. In. In. Ininininin-

He wonders if this is what dying feels like.

A small voice in his head whispers that he doesn’t have to wonder.

“Komaeda.” A voice cuts into his thoughts, nearly gets lost in their maelstrom. “Komaeda! Listen to me!” There are hands on his shoulders; they feel like chains, like ropes, binding and restraining while he bleeds out, bleeds out, bleeds out. Komaeda jerks away. He’s shaking, he thinks. Or maybe it’s the world that’s shaking, trembling. Collapsing.

“Listen to me.” The voice says again, quieter this time, more even. “I want to help you, but to do that you must follow my instructions. Do you think you can do that?”

Komaeda moves his head the slightest bit - whether in a shake or a nod, he doesn’t know. The voice continues.

“Inhale for a four count.”

Komaeda breathes in. Breathes in in in. Stops.

“Good. Now hold for a seven count.”

Somehow, Komaeda does, and when the voice orders him to exhale for an eight count, he does that as well. The voice repeats its three directions over and over and with each inhale, hold, and exhale, Komaeda finds himself feeling slightly more stable, more grounded.

Once he's finally stopped shaking, mind settling from a snowstorm to a flurry, Komaeda opens his eyes - when had he closed them? - and takes in Togami's figure. An odd sense of disappointment runs through him at the sight, as if Togami isn't the person he really wants to see. He immediately chastises himself for it. To think that he would feel _disappointed_ in an Ultimate's presence: it's abhorrent, truly. Especially when he doesn't know who the person he really wants to see _is_ , doesn’t know if they even exist or if they’re just one more figment of his wild, traitorous imagination.

Even so, the disappointment lingers.

“Are you o- Are you calm now?” Togami asks. Komaeda nods.

“Aha.” He feels a smile stretch his face. “I truly am very sorry. I don’t know what came over me, but-” he grabs at his shoulders, digs his fingers in “-It must have been torturous for you to deal with the issues of such a lowly, insignificant worm. For that, I cannot apologize enough.”

Togami frowns, eyebrows knitting together. “I vowed earlier that I would lead all of you. Dealing with your ‘issues’ is part of that. I was simply... fulfilling my obligations, in that respect.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I would do the same for any of our classmates.”

“How hopeful.” Komaeda feels his smile grow wider, wider, wider. “Yes, that’s very, very hopeful. To be a witness to such wonderful, shining hope, ah!” He feels his eye twitch, his hands tremble on his shoulders. “I really am lucky!”

Togami shoots Komaeda an odd look; it has an effect similar to a throwing knife on a balloon and Komaeda instantly deflates, smile vanishing and hands dropping to his sides. “Oh, but I’ve wasted so much of your time already, Togami-kun. I won’t hold you up any longer.” He shifts his weight between his feet.

“You-” Togami shakes his head “-Never mind. Did you inspect the factory?” Komaeda hums an affirmation. “Very well, then I will investigate this building.” As soon as the words come out of Togami’s mouth, Komaeda steps - or perhaps it would be more accurate to say _springs_ \- away from the door. He watches as Togami disappears into the building and counts one, two, three seconds before moving farther away.

His feet take him near an edge of the complex, between the chain link fence and the outer walls of the factory. There’s a wood bench placed there; Komaeda doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he pushes away his curiosity in favor of simple gratefulness for the bench’s presence. He slumps down onto it, head falling back to hit the backrest.

_It’s not the most comfortable position to be in - bits of old, corroded metal poke into his back, and flecks of paint fall onto his clothes every time he breathes, but Komaeda doesn’t move. His eyes are fixed on the blue sky above, tinged in various places with blotches of gray, like a canvas dotted haphazardly with paint. The gathering clouds tell a different story from this morning's weather forecast, which had claimed that today would be a clear, sunny day._

_Komaeda’s no meteorologist, but from the look of things, he estimates it will start raining in about half an hour - maybe a little longer, if he’s lucky._

_Ha._

_“What are you doing out here?” Komaeda hears []a’s question come from behind him. He doesn’t turn around._

_“I don’t need to explain myself to someone like you.” The statement comes out automatically, too quick for Komaeda to inject the proper amount of disdain into his tone._

_“Ugh. Of course.” H[] groans; Komaeda can vividly picture the annoyed expression he must be sporting. “Do you have to be so rude all the time?”_

_“Is it really being rude if what I’m saying is true?”_

_A short pause, and then, “You’re an asshole.”_

_Komaeda only shrugs. []na[] sighs and draws closer, appearing in Komaeda’s peripheral vision as he carefully takes a seat on the bench. He leaves quite a bit of space between himself and Komaeda._

_Silence falls over them, thick and weighted, yet not wholly uncomfortable. Komaeda is the one to break it, not looking away from the steadily darkening sky, even as he asks, “Why are_ you _here? With me, I mean. I didn’t expect you’d want to see me after our last meeting.”_

_“‘I don’t need to explain myself to someone like you’,” []a immediately responds, tone colored by mockery. Komaeda frowns._

_“[]a-kun….”_

_“Not so fun, is it?” H[] grumbles, quiet enough that Komaeda isn’t sure if he was meant to hear it._

_“If you really want an answer, though-” []ta’s voice, though louder, has taken on an unsure affect “-I’m not sure. I mean.” Komaeda imagines []ta chewing at his bottom lip as he attempts to explain - a ridiculous, annoying,_ distracting _habit of his. “It’s not like last time was an exception or anything. We’ve never gotten along. No-” there’s a flurry of motion at the corner of Komaeda’s eye as []ta shakes his head “-It goes beyond not getting along: you’ve made it_ very _clear how much you despise me. And I haven’t exactly been the nicest either.” He makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh._

_“Still,” H[] continues, “There’s something about you that- that I-” he cuts himself off “-Well, that doesn’t matter.”_

_Before Komaeda can decide whether or not it’s worth inquiring into what []n[] was about to say, something small and wet hits his cheek, sliding down his jawline to make a small, dark circle on his pants. He blinks, tilting his head to a side as another raindrop hits him. And another. And another._

_Soon enough, the air is filled with them, obscuring Komaeda’s vision to the point where it takes him a good while to notice the hand held out just a few centimeters from him._

_“Come on,” H[] says from his new position in front of Komaeda. His face is half-turned away and he doesn't make direct eye contact, cheeks dusted with the slightest hint of red. “Even you can’t like being out in the rain. Let’s get inside.”_

_Komaeda wavers for only a moment before gingerly taking hold of []a’s outstretched hand, feeling a strange thrill run through him at the contact. As he leverages himself to his feet, he wonders just what type of luck this is._

_It worries him that he can’t immediately tell._

  
  
  


_Would y0u like to s@ve your progress?_

**_Yes_ **

_No_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Island exploration, continued
> 
> Notes:  
> -sorry this took so long for me to update haha. i can't promise future updates will come any quicker, but i am sorry  
> -i made a tumblr! find me there @ variantsofblue  
> -please kudos/and or comment if you like this :D


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